


objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear

by rewire



Category: Hustlers (2019)
Genre: Canon Continuation, Future Fic, Gen, i guess?, if the future is 10 minutes after canon ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 14:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20707433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewire/pseuds/rewire
Summary: Destiny’s phone is on the table.(See: Ramona, clutching her hands, asking “Why didn’t you call me?”And well. It’s hard to call someone while you’re driving, isn’t it?)





	objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear

**Author's Note:**

> hi i saw this movie and got absolutely possessed. have this? i've only seen the movie once, so some of this might be inaccurate, though i've tried my best. it's unbeta'd and relatively unedited as well, please enjoy?
> 
> edit 9/20, came in with another editing pass!

So here’s the thing. Destiny has never been able to save herself from wanting Ramona’s approval. She’s not sure where she would be if she had. Certainly not here on the couch, having just hung up on Elizabeth. Certainly less conflicted. Almost certainly less happy.

The search for that approval is a fucking nightmare. It’s her own private disease, infected on sight, a non-communicable pathogen. Split her veins wide open and find it bubbling there, parceling out serotonin at the sight of Ramona’s smile. From the club rooftop, half out of her mind on a cocktail of nerves, to in front of her grandmother’s grave, tears still dripping down her nose, Destiny has clung to Ramona, leeched off her kindness.

Depended on her.

If there’s anything that Destiny hates more in the world than the year 2013 (though 2008 is a strong contender) it’s that. Depending on people. They always let her down.

(See: Her parents, Ramona, and in the end, even herself.

See: Destiny, standing in front of her grandmother’s house, watching her mother drive off for the last time.

See: Destiny in the driver’s seat, because of course she is. She has to drive everywhere herself, be the one behind the steering wheel, be the one in control of her own Destiny. _Ironic, right?_ Destiny is in the car, and there is a man becoming a corpse in the backseat, and all that she can think of is the fact that Ramona is _not there. _When she finds out that she was bailing out Dawn, Destiny’s teeth nearly crack under the force of her rage. She doesn’t look in the mirror. She isn’t sure she’d like what she would find.

See: Destiny, signing the dotted line. Guilty as charged, officer. Here are my friends on a platter, officer. All for her precious little Lily. Oh, what motherhood has done to her.)

Ramona’s approval is easy to get, really. Do what she asks, and everything will be ok. There’s something untouchable about her and the way she spills sunlight all over a room when she walks into it, coos at children and little dogs, wraps half the world around her pinkie. It's a charisma strong enough to power Manhattan by force of personality alone. Depend on Ramona Vega, and everything will be all right. Right up until it’s not.

However much Ramona made the hard choices, Destiny knows that she would never abandon a friend in need. And that was the problem. With half the world wrapped around her pinkie, she was willing to drug all of Wall Street for them but couldn’t get rid of Dawn. She was willing to make it a business but couldn’t fire her employees. Ramona was kind when it counted, when counting was the number between a house in debt and a mortgage payment on-time. And well, it worked for a while, didn’t it?

Sitting there in the police station, listening to the conditions of a plea deal, Destiny knew for goddamn sure that Ramona wasn’t untouchable. But. She would never abandon a friend. Destiny picked up the pen and knew she wasn’t that kind. 

Destiny’s phone is on the table.

(See: Ramona, clutching her hands, asking “Why didn’t you call me?”

And well. It’s hard to call someone while you’re driving, isn’t it?)

It’s like she told Elizabeth. She’s in the backseat, trying to get up front, and no matter how much she tries, she can’t get the car back under control. She’s not sure if she’s talking about the situation or her heart.

And yet.

It’s been two years and Destiny is still here, living with her decisions. For all that she still thinks it was Ramona’s poorly placed trust that sunk them, it was Destiny that cut the final cord, made the only choice she could. If given another chance, she would do it all over again too.

For her daughter, Destiny would burn the world down. It’s a disease, but at least it’s a disease shared. Destiny knows that Ramona understands. Equally so, she’s not sure if understanding can lead to forgiveness.

Two years, and all Destiny has to show for it is a note on her permanent record, a ruined friendship, and a newspaper article. She didn’t even get a t-shirt.

(She got a Chinchilla coat.)

It’s different reading the paper, seeing all the details strung out on wires. Elizabeth is a good reporter, and the article is compelling without drowning in emotion, holds attention without begging for it. Destiny likes to think that part of it is because it’s a compelling story, but the other part of her recognizes that it’s a little like looking at a train wreck.

Elizabeth does her best not to fall into stereotypes about strippers, but there’s only so much she can do. Finishing the article for the first time, Destiny wanted to burn it. She folded it carefully instead, saved it so that she could read it again later, a hurt always at hand, a shot of self-loathing to the vein. 

It’s like picking at a scab, reading the article. The text is accurate enough to burn, years collapsing into a single instant of pain every time. It’s a story full of choices she regrets, and yet.

And yet.

Elizabeth’s voice, repeating back what Ramona had told her: “I like to keep her close with me.”

It’s been two years, and nothing has changed. Lily has grown older, started a new school. Destiny started a new job. She still misses the way Ramona’s hair had felt beneath her fingers. Nothing has changed, and she’s starting to realize that if she doesn’t call, nothing ever will. Maybe it’s less like dependence and more like a give and take. Ramona is still thinking of her, and despite herself, Destiny is thinking right back.

Maybe it’s time to stop waiting for Ramona to call her, depend on her to swoop in and fix the situation. She’s her own Destiny. It’s time to start solving her problems by herself.

Destiny picks up the phone.

Dials.

“Hello, Ramona?”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you enjoyed this <3 i would love to hear your thoughts~


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